


Resurrection

by UnityGhost



Series: Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Caring Jack Kline, Caring Sam Winchester, Comforting Jack Kline, Comforting Sam Winchester, Gabriel (Supernatural) has PTSD, Hell Trauma, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Gabriel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Jack Kline Feels, M/M, PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), Platonic Sabriel, Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, Post-Season/Series 13, Protective Jack Kline, Protective Sam Winchester, Sabriel - Freeform, Scared Gabriel (Supernatural), Sick Gabriel (Supernatural), Torture, Trauma, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnityGhost/pseuds/UnityGhost
Summary: "If someone was going to take advantage of Gabriel’s grace, it would be Sam. And imagining Sam in the role of Asmodeus, as Sam Winchester, was uniquely sickening."





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> This, the twentieth installment of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series, builds on two suggestions from readers.
> 
>  
> 
> _1\. A happy (ish) scene when Gabriel gets his grace back in a substantive way for the first time and has a real moment of hope for the future would be lovely. - Anonymous (Archive)_
> 
>  
> 
> _2\. "I wondered if you'd ever considered what Gabriel's reaction would be if any of them (but especially Sam) came back from a hunt injured, and for whatever hand-wavy reason Castiel didn't immediately heal them [I dunno, send Cas out on a separate hunt with Jack, or be running low on grace and unable to, if I were to brainstorm reasons]." - GammaSpectrum (Archive)_
> 
>  
> 
> A side-note: As with _Scratches,_ (yikes, that feels like such a long time ago - I get embarrassed rereading my old stories), I had to set this in Rhode Island because that's where I come from. I tend to feel uneasy mapping out anywhere else so easily in my head (except New York! Maybe sometime I'll do something fun with that). 
> 
> Rhode Island has a wealth of vampire lore. Sarah Tillinghast and Mercy Brown (known as Lena in day-to-day life) are two of the best-known cases:
> 
> https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/26/the-vampire-case-of-sarah-tillinghast/
> 
> https://locationsoflore.com/2018/07/07/the-vampire-case-of-mercy-brown/
> 
> Finally, I've written Jack as I normally would: all innocence. I'm pretty squirmy about what just happened in canon.
> 
> A general warning: this story (like many of the others) contains subtle references to sexual assault.

“What did you say these were called?” asked Jack.

Gabriel took a sip from his plastic cup of water. Stay hydrated, Sam had reminded him. “Vines. They’re called Vines.”

“I thought a vine was a plant.”

“Yes, these too crawl across the wall that is your brain and overshadow what used to be your identity.”

Jack squinted at the laptop screen. The two of them had gotten lucky with a reliable internet connection in such a run-down motel. “These do seem like something Dean would enjoy in his down-time.”

“Not him. Castiel. Who I think probably found them by accident when he was helping research those vampires they’re after. I happened to be in the same room at the same time and we spent an hour or two just, you know, watching them. All of them. Four hours, maybe? I’m not saying I’m ashamed, but also don’t ask me if I’m ashamed.”

“Sam and Cas said they weren’t looking for vampires,” Jack corrected. “The lore says ‘vampire,’ but they seem to think they’re dealing with vengeful spirits.” He paused. “Why’d you decide to come on the case with them? You hate Rhode Island.”

"I don't _hate_ Rhode Island; I just remember that even in the horse-and-buggy era these people had no sense of vehicular coordination. Anyway, Sam said I can’t be trusted to be by myself for more than two hours at a time without going full Black Swan. And I’m in no position to disagree with him. Besides, I told them I could give them a hand if they wanted me to. Mother Sam insisted I need rest instead. But I’ve had more than my fair share of that.”

Before Jack could reply, there was the familiar billow of wings and Castiel appeared in the room.

“Guys,” he panted.

It was several seconds before Gabriel managed to take in the scene before him. Sam’s arm was slung over Castiel’s shoulders. His face was white and sweaty, and his breaths quick and ragged.

“Sam!” Jack leapt off the bed and hurried over to them.

Gabriel simply stared as they eased Sam onto the bed. “Sam?”

“I can’t heal him,” Castiel ground out. “One of those women, she - well, first she pinned me to the ground and then Sam got her attention so that she attacked him instead. Whatever she did, it took away enough of my grace that I can’t help him. And she seems to have stolen his breath.”

Gabriel blinked. “You can heal him. You have to.”

“I tried. More than once.”

“Try again.”

Just then Sam began gasping, choking, clawing for air that wouldn’t come.

Gabriel pushed himself up from the bed, and somewhere in his mind he registered the slapstick still playing in the background. “Castiel.”

Cas turned to Jack. “Call for help. Dial 911.”

“What are we supposed to tell them?” cried Jack.

“Don’t worry about that; just call them.”

Jack looked around for his cell phone and found it beside the laptop, under a fold in the bedspread.

Feeling dazed, Gabriel picked up Sam’s wrist. His heartbeat was quick and blurry, the surest indicator of a body in panic.

“Sam,” he said again, feeling dazed and distant, eyes trained on Sam’s purpling face.

Even though he knew it was pointless, Gabriel still reflexively tugged at his grace in moments like this. If he wanted to fix something he would normally be able to rectify with his powers, reaching for them was involuntary.

It was also humiliating, since he knew that there was no reason to expect results. Yet here and now, he reached for it, ached for it, hated himself for not having it.

As Sam’s pulse grew slower and weaker, Gabriel wondered what nauseating twist of fate could have turned this seemingly simple hunt into something so disastrous.

“Uncle Gabriel?”

Gabriel tried to speak and found he couldn’t. His skin prickled with icy sweat.

_Am I panicking?_ he wondered. _Am I freaking out and I’m not even really freaking out? Is my brain frozen but the rest of me knows what’s happening? What the hell?_

“Cas!” shrieked Jack. “Something’s wrong with Uncle Gabriel!” 

“Call 911,” Castiel commanded. “I’ll help Gabriel.” 

Gabriel grew dizzy, and the next thing he knew there were hands on him, and then a second pair of hands. 

“No!” he screeched, struggling, trying to throw them off, not sure whom to fight first. 

“Let go!” Gabriel howled. _"Let go of me!"_

Someone called his name. Gabriel screamed, trying to force release. 

_“Gabriel!”_

Gabriel’s vision edged in and out. He couldn’t see who was holding him down. 

“Gabriel, stop! It’s okay, it’s us! It’s Sam and Cas! Hey hey hey, calm down Gabriel, calm down; it’s okay!” 

At last, Gabriel managed to wrench himself out of their grip, then rolled over and, with a cry of pain, landed on the floor. He blinked, panting on all fours, trying to let things come back into focus. 

“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, crouching beside him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all okay. You’re safe.” 

Gabriel raised his eyes, trying to get a deep breath. “Oh god. Sam? Sam - ” 

“Yeah, I’m right here, buddy.” 

Gabriel shivered. “I’m freezing cold.” 

“Okay, it’s okay; come on.” 

Sam started to pull Gabriel to his feet, but Gabriel shook his head. “Dizzy. Can’t get up. Sorry.” 

A moment later, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. He collapsed onto the dirty carpet, trying to will away his headache. The spilled cup of water stared back at him. An ant had crawled into it. 

There was a rapid knock at the door, then a woman’s voice. “Who the hell is that screaming in there? Do I gotta call the police?” 

Cas frowned and went to open the door. Gabriel couldn’t see who was standing there, but he heard Castiel’s reply: “My son, he’s … terrified of cockroaches. Right, Jack?” 

A pause. Then, with surprising persuasiveness: “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life!” 

“Jesus,” said the stranger, “Keep it together next time. Thought someone was bein’ freakin’ murdered.” 

As the door slammed shut again, Sam put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Do you know where you are?” 

“New Hampshire.” 

“Rhode Island.” 

“Only two New England states with three syllables. Can’t remember which is which.” 

“Can you get into bed if we give you a hand? Nice and slow?” 

“Don’t even try.” 

“Okay. All right. Gabriel, what do you remember?” 

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to think. “Got upset about … about ...” 

“You were upset,” said Castiel, “Because Sam couldn’t breathe.” 

Gradually, the picture grew clearer: Sam groping for breath, nearing a painful end on a bourbon-stained motel mattress. 

Gabriel gasped and jerked upright. The room spun around him and he immediately collapsed again. “Ah, shit.” 

“Easy,” said Sam, tightening the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m all right now. Everything’s all right.” 

“But how?” Gabriel croaked. “Did it wear off on its own? Because the prognosis looked like a Maroon 5 cover band sounds.” 

“Um … well … funny story …” Sam scratched the back of his head. “I think you healed me.” 

There was a long pause. 

Finally, Gabriel spoke. “That’s not a funny story.” 

“You were holding onto me - like this - ” Sam grasped his own wrist, demonstrating. “And you healed me.” 

The words swam through Gabriel’s head. He struggled to distinguish one from the other. “What exactly happened?” 

“It’s really that simple,” Castiel explained. “It appeared you were caught up in some sort of adrenaline rush, or whatever the angelic equivalent might be. Jack and I both felt your grace - it was like an electric shock. There wasn’t much, but it seems you had enough to save Sam’s life.” 

Gabriel turned his eyes to Sam, trying to focus on his face. “What?” 

“Cas,” Sam said in a low voice, “If you can help me lift him, get him into bed - ” 

"Oh shut _up,_ Sam; I know I’m a charity case, but I swear if either one of you tries to carry me I’ll … I’ll, uh … do whatever I’d threaten to do if I could remember how to make words happen.” 

“We just want you to be comfortable,” said Castiel. 

“Are you kidding me? This carpet feels like a feather bed after eight hundred years of slimy concrete.” 

“All right,” Sam said quietly, “All right. We won’t move you. Do you need anything? Another cup of water, maybe?” 

“Not until I can lift my head. What about Jack, where’d he go?” 

There was a moment of hesitation. Then Castiel answered, “He had to go outside. He told me the grace was … a little much for him. A surprise. He didn’t expect so much energy all at once.” 

“Shouldn’t you have been the one who was affected? He’s half-archangel. He’s supposed to be able to put up with a lot.” 

“Well, yes, but I’ve had more experience with exposure to other angels’ grace. It seems to have jarred him. He said he needed some fresh air.” 

“Well, go find him. Help him. He needs you, Cas." 

Sam and Castiel exchanged a glance, and Gabriel saw Sam’s tiny nod: _He wants to talk to me alone._

“Okay,” Cas said to Gabriel. “I’ll go check on Jack. Sam, come find me if you need anything, all right?” 

As soon as Castiel had shut the door, Gabriel said, “Start from the beginning.” 

“Oh. Well … one of the spirits, Sarah Tillinghast, is supposed to have died of tuberculosis back in the late eighteenth century, then taken out her brothers and sisters in the same way by sitting on them in the middle of the night. The locals figured she was some kind of vampire and dug up her grave. Found the body well-preserved, which I guess they took as confirmation. So they cut out her heart and burned it.” 

“Ah. I take it that didn’t do anything except double her beef with them.” 

“Yeah, and some hundred years later, another girl - Mercy - same thing happened. Only she doesn’t seem to have been as malicious. People who end up near either of the grave sites report seeing them together a lot. Looks like they formed a friendship.” 

“Partners in crime, huh?” 

“Not so much. Sarah did most or all of the killing, and Mercy just sort of stuck around. I think she didn’t do as much to deserve the reputation she ended up with. Either she wanted to spend her career as a vengeful spirit being not so vengeful and hanging out with Sarah or couldn’t get away from her for some reason. So Sarah attacked us - Cas first, then me when I managed to pull her off him - while Mercy watched. Not like she was enjoying it. More like she was used to it, but it kind of made her sad. I guess Sarah takes away the life force in whatever she’s got under her; so for me that was the ability to breathe, and for Cas it was apparently his grace.” 

“Did you kill them?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we did. Turned out they weren’t vampires at all, just plain old pissed-off spirits. We burned one of Sarah’s old skirts - the Tillinghasts have had it for a while; they said they’d held onto it for generations because they knew what might happen if a hunter found it. Apparently we’re not the first to try getting rid of her.” 

“But why the hell wouldn’t they want her gone?” 

“She’d killed off at least one kid every generation. And when a hunter first tried to get a hold of her, she got angrier and killed more. A pair of twins, the family said, and the baby that came after. This was all the way back in the 1940’s. And then I guess no one gave it another shot. Mercy was a little tougher; we had to actually dig her up to get anything that belonged to her. Dean is on his way back now. But listen, I’d rather not get too hung up on the case, okay? We need to focus on you. Are you okay? How are you feeling?" 

“Not great. Don’t wanna move. Cold. Head hurts. Might vomit." 

“Gabriel.” Sam offered a genuine smile. “You realize what this means, right? Your grace. It’s on its way back.” 

Gabriel didn’t reply. 

“Gabriel?” said Sam. “Aren’t you happy about that?" 

“I …” Gabriel closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. “Yeah.” 

Sam waited for him to go on. 

Gabriel sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“Why?” Sam sounded perplexed. “Why wouldn’t this be a good thing?” 

Gabriel kept his eyes shut. “I didn’t realize I had that much.” 

“So it should be a nice surprise, shouldn’t it?” 

“No.” Gabriel opened his eyes. “I didn’t realize it was there, and … Sam, why is it that I’m still such an epic disaster if I’ve got enough grace not to be?” 

A pause, and then: “You think you have to get back to normal just because your grace does?” 

Gabriel swallowed. “It isn’t just that.” 

“Then what?” When Gabriel remained silent, Sam pressed, “Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

Gabriel’s throat tightened. 

“Are you just … not ready or something? Is it too much to take in all at once?” 

“No, I’m not worried about that.” 

“Then what _are_ you worried about?” 

Gabriel started to speak, but the words were too heavy. There was no way he could say what he had to say without breaking down. 

Sam spoke softly. “It’s that bad?” 

Gabriel tried to take a deep breath but didn’t quite manage it. “I - um - I thought - ” He fixed his eyes upon the moldy ceiling. “I thought that if - that when it started to come back, and I got to be more like who I was - ” His stomach churned with the effort of keeping himself together. “I thought I could help you. And if my grace comes back and I can’t help you, then - ” 

“Whoooaaa, whoa whoa whoa.” Sam held up a hand. “We’ve covered this before. None of us want you around just because you could be useful. And we’re not throwing you away if you can’t be. What’s bringing that up again?” 

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Lately I’ve noticed that you treat my brother as an angel first and a friend second. I figure that’s me too. An archangel, and then a passion project, and then maybe a friend. A pet. A stray. I don’t know.” 

“Come on, that’s - ” 

“And even if I’m wrong, it’s not fair if I can’t repay you. You deserve compensation for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve sacrificed.” 

“Why would you think we expect you to pay us for anything? We’ve been over this. You’re not a house guest, Gabriel.” 

“Well, whatever I am, if my grace comes backs and I end up still feeling so afraid all the time, and if I collapse every time I use it, I can’t give you what you deserve. I don’t care whether or not you think you should have it; if I can’t pay my dues, I might as well never have come to stay at all.” 

Sam shook his head. “We don’t want anything from you.” 

"The point is that you _should_ want something from me. So I’d like to be able to give you a hand with cases. To take the fall you just did and get back up faster. It’d be a good deal - you guys get a little extra ammo, and I get somewhere to hang out.” 

“Gabriel, listen - ” 

“I know it’s supposed to get better,” Gabriel interrupted, “But better than this is a low standard. And I hate that I’ll never be like I was. Because the the only thing I’ll accept is a total reversal of what’s happening now.” He paused, forcing himself under control. “When I left Heaven - ah, man, it was great. I had so much freedom and I didn’t have to conform to whatever stupid demands those callous asshats came up with. And I knew I wasn’t gonna go back; it was out of the question, but … there was also no replacing what I’d left behind. And of course I had to leave it behind; it was going to kill me, watching all that pointless brutality. But Sam … no matter what I did, no matter where I went, no matter how many friends or lovers or whatever that I came across - I could only _pretend_ to call them family. I could use even enemies to distract me, and to remind me that I’d made a whole world for myself. But at the end of the day, no one and nothing could take the place of - of _them."_

Sam looked away. “I know. There’s no putting that back. Not really.” 

Hearing somebody else say it was more than Gabriel could bear to focus on, so he kept talking. "Let's say my grace _does_ come back to full power, and I _don’t_ wind up half-dead on a flea-infested motel room floor swaddled in a dirty blanket. Let’s say I get back to normal, in terms of angel-ness. But in any case I’m still going to need you propping me up like a cheap Raggedy Ann knockoff, because I’ll get to thinking about _him_ and I’ll run straight to you, whining for TLC.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “What’s the point? What’s the point in letting my grace fill up again if I’m still just going to need help all the time? And this drives it home. My grace is there, but me? I’m not there, Sam. I’m gone.” 

Sam took his hand. “You’re not gone. I knew you before you got hurt. You’re not that different.” 

“I don’t want to listen to make-believe BS.” 

“Gabriel.” Sam tightened his grip. “You’re not anyone else just because you’ve changed.” 

“Well, I don’t like that!” Gabriel was angry now. He tried to sit up but simply dropped back down, too weak to hold his head over the floor. “Whoever I was before all this happened, I never thought about it. There was a hazy cutoff between good and evil and I was happy to straddle the line. All I cared about was how to fix what wasn’t fair, and if that meant hurting the people who screwed with justice, I spent no time questioning whether to take them out. Then, in my downtime, I was happy to indulge myself: food tasted good, so I ate it; sex felt good, so I made it into a game. This was all so _easy,_ Sam. I never wondered about something being fundamentally _wrong_ with me. I never felt like just being in the same room with someone was a sin, because I make everything filthy.” 

Sam stared at him, mouth agape. 

“And don’t you dare try to compare this to your situation with Lucifer,” Gabriel barreled on. “This isn’t a you-mess; this is a _me_ -mess. The kind of mess that would have Marie Kondo convulsing on the ground frothing at the mouth. I don’t know how to handle how much of a horror show I am. And how to deal with the knowledge that I can’t ever, ever be what I was. And then wondering if I was actually the same scum I am today, except then I was _blind_ to it, and - and I don’t know if I _want_ to be me again. I don’t know who I was; I just remember not being worried about it. I felt comfortable in my own company. The only thing in all of Dad's creation I found even remotely intimidating was pasta with ketchup on it, because what kind of freak _does_ that, but Sam - I don’t want that me back. Because I don’t want to be _any_ version of me." 

For a few moments, Sam didn’t say anything. Then, at last: “I know you think that you were tortured because you deserved it. That it was meant to happen, because you were just bad. Inherently bad. And that Asmodeus could see that and did what had to be done.” 

Gabriel looked up at him, and hated the kindness written into the crease of Sam’s brow. It turned his stomach to think that that was meant for him. 

And yet, in spite of all that, Gabriel longed for this storm to stop: the fear, and the doubt, and the hatred. He wanted to be rid of the guilt he felt over having access to Sam’s affection. 

Gabriel couldn’t imagine a world in which he wouldn’t be punished for letting that happen. 

“But you weren’t,” Sam went on gently, “And he didn’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel whispered. “I thought I’d be happy. I just didn’t expect that I’d still be like … like this.” 

Sam offered a small smile. “Well, can you at least stop worrying about being useful? Or thinking we’re gonna make you leave just because you’ve started to heal? You trust me, right?” 

“I’ve run out of excuses not to.” 

“Then take my word for it.” 

“Mm.” 

Sam peered more closely at him. “No, hey, don’t do that. You know you’ll make yourself sick if you try too hard to keep yourself together." 

“I’m okay.” 

“Gabriel, man, it’s just me. You’re allowed.” 

“I - I know, I just … I’m …” Gabriel turned over, so that his cheek was pressed into the grainy carpeting. 

“Gabriel, I can help you get in bed. You’ll be so much warmer. Just close your eyes if you’re still dizzy.” 

The notion of warmth appealed enough that, after a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel replied, “Okay.” 

Sam eased him upright, and Gabriel did as he’d suggested and shut his eyes. Getting into bed was quicker and easier than he’s anticipated, even if it did make him feel dizzier. 

“You’re okay,” Sam said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and covering him with the blanket again. “I guess that healing really did a number on you, huh? I’m sorry you had to resort to it.” 

“You were dying, Sam.” 

“I know, but … I wish you’d had the opportunity to use it on something else.” 

“I know, right? The other day there was this crazy stubborn pickle jar. Should’ve blown all my grace on that. Definitely worth the hangover.” 

Sam searched his face. “Do you wanna talk?” 

“We just did.” 

“Yeah, but I feel like you didn’t tell me everything.” 

“Oh come on. I always tell you everything.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t know, you just seem … like you need something, I guess. I don’t know. Do you?” 

Gabriel tensed. “What would I need, huh? You just gave me a hundred percent of my daily dose of coddling.” 

“Gabriel,” said Sam, “Please.” 

“Why? What do you want to know? What d’you think I’m gonna tell you?” 

“Well, maybe nothing. It’s fine if you don’t want to, I just … I’d like you to be honest. It’s better for you than keeping it bottled up.” 

Gabriel gave a harsh laugh. “As if I keep anything hidden from you anymore.” 

“I know you do. I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me.” 

Gabriel gave no response, because Sam was right: more than once, Gabriel had stipulated that there were memories he simply couldn’t share with anyone, not even Sam. There were some things he simply didn’t want Sam to see. 

“All right,” said Sam, “All right. When you’re ready. Whatever makes you feel okay.” 

“Ah yes, my pastime of choice: being okay.” 

Sam was silent, and perhaps he was aware that silence was sometimes the trick.

Gabriel averted his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I just need a little time to get back on my feet.” 

“Mm. Okay.” 

There was another hush between them, and Gabriel wondered if perhaps Sam already suspected what was on his mind. 

“Sam.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Look, would you - I know you wouldn’t, but - I have to ask.” 

Sam waited. 

Gabriel steeled himself. “Would you ever take it? Would you dig into my grace if you really needed it right away, and I was being stubborn about it?” 

“No.” Sam sounded too calm. Yes, he must have been prepared for the question. 

“Because it hurts," Gabriel said. 

“I know it does, Gabriel.” 

“So if it’s there … I mean, you could take it.” 

“We don’t want your grace. We want you to be okay. And taking your grace wouldn’t exactly help that along, would it? We care about _you,_ not your grace.” 

“I know, but …” 

“Look, you don’t believe me. Not in the way I wish you would. I don’t think I can change your mind right now. But no, nobody’s gonna touch your grace. We won’t touch you at all if you don’t want us to.” 

“You. You can.” Gabriel reached for him, and Sam held his hand again. Gabriel wondered if this ever embarrassed him. 

Sam certainly didn’t seem perturbed. “How come you didn’t let me know what you were upset about?” 

“Because part of me knows it’s a really dumb question. But I’m still … I don’t know … I can’t help it.” 

“You should’ve asked me. Maybe if you hear me say it over and over again it’ll click.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Well, your grace is all yours. Do you know that now? It doesn’t belong to any of us. And none of us think it should.” 

Gabriel stared up at him, fingers too limp for a proper grasp. He hoped Sam wouldn’t take that as an indication that it was time to let go. “I think about what would happen if it turned out you weren’t telling me the truth. I can’t get that out of my mind. Because it would be worse, way worse, than having Asmodeus barge in here and just snatch me up again. I know who he is. I know he’d do that.” Gabriel tried to keep his breathing steady. “But I don’t think you would. My guard is down. Around all of you, but especially around you. I think you really don’t want to do anything to me. Or I _think_ that I think so. So when I get to dwelling on what it would do to me to find out I’m wrong, I just - I can’t - ” He coughed, trying to loosen his throat. “I don’t know if this sounds absurd to you, or if it’s making you angry, but to me it’s a real possibility. After everything he did? There were times he seemed like _you,_ Sam. He wasn’t always throwing me into walls and raking his nails across my back. There were times I begged for him to help me, to hold me. Because I would’ve taken _anyone._ I just needed somebody to touch me. 

“I know that sounds stupid. It _was_ stupid. But I begged for it until my throat started bleeding and I puked up blood. And he’d come in and hug me and let me cry into his lap. The next thing I knew he was doing a whole world of gross to me, and I hated it; I felt exactly the way he wanted me to feel, but he was there, and I needed - I - ” Gabriel pressed his other hand on top of Sam’s. “I needed this. I took it wherever I could find it. And now and again I let myself pretend that maybe he wouldn’t hurt me again, that he’d let me lie there and fantasize that I had someone to do what you’re doing for me. But then he would stop. Of course he would. He always did.” 

Sam’s mouth hung open. “You think I would do that?” 

“No, I don’t, but I think about what it would be like if you did.” 

“I’m not going to.” 

“I _know!_ But that doesn’t make me believe you! If I let myself _really_ know, if I let myself say it’s impossible - that’s when I let it become possible.” 

Bewildered, Sam shook his head. “You never told me about that. About letting him help.” 

“Because it’s _hard,_ Sam! I don’t want to think about it because how could I ever get so low as to need _him_ to stroke my hair and tell me I’d be all right? And who was I to just keep letting him do it? When within five minutes of rubbing my back and giving me that little bit of comfort I’d _screamed_ for, I was back on the floor and the only thing that shut me up was how much heavier than me he was? What if you did that, Sam? _What if it was you?”_

“Jesus - ” Sam went to pull away his hand. 

Gabriel cried out and grabbed it again. “Wait, no! I’m sorry, Sam; I didn’t - “ 

“Ssh, it’s okay.” Sam tugged his hand out of Gabriel’s grasp and walked to the other side of the bed so that he could recline beside him. “I know you can’t sit up and I thought you might like this better.” 

_Or,_ Gabriel thought, _It makes you sick to touch me._

“Look,” Sam said softly, “This doesn’t have to be a good thing. Not if you don’t think it is. I know you’re a little freaked out about it. But you can heal again. Or you’ll be able to soon. And I’m sure this side effect will wear off once you get more used to using your grace. But seriously, man - you should be a little proud of yourself. You did what you thought you might never be able to do again.” 

“But it was an accident,” Gabriel whispered, desperately wanting Sam to understand that he didn’t deserve praise. “I was scared to the bone and it just sort of happened. I’m glad it did, but it wasn’t because I had the willpower to get things going.” 

“You don’t need willpower. Not yet. Eventually you’ll get a better sense of how to handle it.” 

“But Sam, if I don’t have control, then - don’t you realize what I could do to you? Or to Dean, or Cas, or Jack? Grace can be used to destroy too.” 

“This time you were scared and wanted to help. It’s not as if you’d get mad at one of us and next thing we know we’ve gone up in flames.” 

“Sure, maybe, but how does this work? What are the rules? Is it just - ” 

“Stop.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “We’ll figure it out. But we can’t do it all today. I need you to take this for what it is: you’re getting closer to having your grace back. And nobody’s gonna try and take advantage of it. And holy crap, Gabe, get rid of that whole thing about me turning into Asmodeus. It’s not going to happen.” 

Gabriel closed his eyes. “I know. But to me, you could be wrong. I don’t know Sam, I … I know it isn’t real to you. But it’s real to me and I have to be prepared for it.” 

Sam shifted so that he could look down at Gabriel. “It _can’t_ be real to you.” 

“Well, if that were the case, then this would be a very different conversation.” 

“I’m serious. I won’t let you believe that. It’s - it’s so powerful. I can tell. It’s killing you. If you don’t let yourself push that away, he’ll still be in your head. Easier said than done, I get it, but - you have _got_ to let that go. I’m not him, Gabriel. I’m _me.”_

Gabriel averted his eyes. “That’s what makes it so terrifying.” 

Sam sighed and lay back down. They were quiet for a few moments, and then Sam said, “Lucifer used to do it to me. Not that, not the same thing. But I mean - pretending. _He_ wasn’t the one who came to me and helped - he’d wear disguises. People I wished could be there with me. People I loved. It was a little like what you’re telling me about, because it was really just Lucifer all along, but … there were times I genuinely thought I had Dean back with me. Or Dad. Whoever. 

“Then I got out, and everything started to come back. You know how it is when Hell starts bleeding into what’s happening right now. So I’d see someone I thought was, you know, not him. And then they’d do something that he got so _right_ \- the way they smiled or talked or laughed. He knew everyone in my life so well. I’m not sure how he got into my head like that, but he did. And when I saw the _real_ person doing that, I’d think no, he’s there; he’s waiting to show his face. His real face. It’s not as if that’s completely gone away, Gabriel. I know what it’s like to be afraid that you’re only seeing lies. That you have to be on your toes for a break in the fantasy. And I know this is different for you, since Asmodeus was the one who was there to help and for me, Lucifer turned into someone else. So I guess as far as you’re concerned, I’ll start breaking you apart and I’ll still be Sam. Right?” 

Gabriel was too stunned to respond. 

“And,” Sam continued, “I always have to ready for a change in someone else. Some sign that they’re not really the person I think I see.” 

Gabriel simply stared at him. 

“So I think I get it,” Sam finished. 

Gabriel took another several moments to collect his thoughts before answering. “You ever think that about me?” 

“He did wear your face a few times. Made you seem … demonic. I remember you had this twisted expression on your face; you looked like a nightmare version of yourself. I think he did that because I didn’t have any really dark memories of you. Well - some not-so-great memories of things that happened, I guess, but it’s not as if you yourself ever made me feel like I had to be afraid. So … I guess it comes to mind once in a while. But don’t worry about it; it doesn’t happen that much. I’m just saying I … I know it’s a weird feeling. And I know it’s hard to shake off. But you gotta, man. You can’t get better if you still feel like we’re going to hurt you.” 

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “‘We’ doesn’t matter. It’s _you_ I don’t want to lose.” 

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then there was a knock at the door. 

“Guys?” called Castiel. “Is everything all right?” 

Sam glanced at Gabriel, who said, “Let him in.” 

Cas opened the door before either if them could do anything more and surveyed the scene. “Gabriel, you look - ” 

“I know. What about you? Are you okay? I’m not the only one of us with busted grace.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“And Jack?” asked Sam. 

Cas opened the door further and Jack stepped in, eyes trained on Gabriel. “There’s nothing wrong with me. But Uncle Gabriel - ” 

“I’m sorry about that, fella. I didn’t mean to give you such a shock to your system.” 

“It’s okay. I just … I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. Made me feel kind of shaky. Like I’d fallen down the stairs or something.” 

“But you’re okay now, right? You don’t look any less like a baby penguin, so I take it you don’t feel too beaten up.” 

“Uncle Gabriel.” Jack moved closer. “You’re upset. About your grace. I don’t understand why.” 

Gabriel’s head was still pounding. He needed to drink something. “I’m not upset. Like you were saying, it just threw me off course.” 

“But you look upset.” 

Gabriel ignored him. “Would you mind finding some water for me, Sam?” 

“Oh - yeah, of course.” 

“I’ll get it,” said Cas. 

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “You need to chill for a second. I’d get it myself, but - ” 

“It’s okay,” said Sam. “Let me grab some for you. Be right back.” 

It was strangely difficult to watch him leave the room. After so much discussion about Sam changing his mind, and choosing to abandon or hurt or loathe him, Gabriel wanted him within immediate reach. 

“Hey.” Jack spoke softly. “Do you want to talk?” 

Gabriel glanced at Cas, who didn’t say anything. 

“No,” Gabriel replied finally. “You don’t have to babysit me. They’ll be back any minute and Sam will do his usual good Samaritan act and I’ll have permission to crack open like an egg.” 

“You always have permission to do that. Anyway, I was thinking …” Jack bent down to retrieve the laptop, which had fallen onto the floor. “Either you can go to sleep - " 

“No thank you. Can't say I expect pretty dreams in this state.” 

“ - or we can go back to what we were doing. I liked them. The Vines. It seemed like you were enjoying them too.” 

Gabriel shook his head. Jack peered more closely at him, and worry flickered over his face. “Oh no. Uncle Gabriel - ” 

“Jack - ” Gabriel clenched his hands into fists beneath the blanket. “I hope you know this isn’t me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s him. Asmodeus. The douchebird who did this to me.” 

“The douchebird who did what?” 

“Who turned me into this … whatever it is I am now. Look, it’s important to me that you know I wasn’t always this much of a wuss. That it would’ve taken a lot more than a sentimental conversation with Sam to reduce me to this state. I just - it hurt, the stuff he did to me. For so long. He taught me that everything is a threat, and to be scared all the time.” 

“And you’re still so scared.” 

“I’m terrified, Jack. I’m terrified of everything.” 

“What about me? You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.” 

“I know. I know that. It’s just - ” 

“Uncle Gabriel, you’re as safe with me as you are with Sam.” 

Gabriel gave a weak smile. “That’s anything but your responsibility. Please just trust that this isn’t me. It isn’t me at all.” 

“Yes it is.” 

Gabriel closed his eyes. “Don’t say that.” 

“But it’s true. He hurt you. That doesn’t mean he took you away. And besides, I don’t care if you’re afraid. Well - I don’t want you to be; of course I want you to feel safe. But I like you. You’re family.” 

“You’re not obligated to like family.” 

“No, I don’t mean I like you _because_ you’re family. I like you because you’re _you_. And I like that you happen to be family. I’m lucky: I like my family.” 

“That makes one of us. Oh - except you. And you,” he added to Castiel. “The rest of them can suck a - ” 

“You need to go easy on yourself,” Cas interrupted. “You would never treat any of us the way you treat yourself. It’s hard to watch.” 

Gabriel squeezed a fistful of the blanket. “It’s not like that. Not that straightforward. Self-love and whatnot, that’s - that’s a sick joke to me. _I’m_ a sick joke. Jack, look, I just need you to understand that this isn’t me. Or that it wasn’t always.” 

Jack rested a hand on Gabriel’s head. “I’m sure I would’ve liked you then. But I like you fine right now.” 

_You shouldn’t,_ thought Gabriel, and then there was the recurrent guilt of forcing Jack into benevolence that simply wasn’t right, because he didn’t know what Gabriel was. Didn’t know that the thing he was speaking to, the thing he was touching, the thing he claimed to respect, would never be anything other than what Asmodeus had made it into. 

When Sam returned, he was holding a fresh cup of water that he helped Gabriel drink by supporting his head. 

“You got all sweaty,” Sam observed. “Wanna take a shower?” 

“You expect me to stand on a slippery surface without busting my skull open on the wall?” 

“Well, you could sit down. Or I could help you.” 

“Oh yeah, sure, as soon as that ‘sexy nurse’ costume I ordered on Amazon comes in. Hope I got the size right.” 

“Okay, fine; when you feel better.” 

Gabriel shivered. 

“Should’ve grabbed a blanket too, huh?” 

“No. I’m okay. Just a little …” 

Sam waited. 

“Chilly, I guess. And … it’s hard to get that stuff out of my head.” 

“What stuff? The stuff about your grace?” 

Gabriel didn’t want to talk about it in front of the others. He knew that Cas and Jack would understand, would probably even try to offer reassurance; but it was something he felt he needed to keep between him and Sam. 

“I hate to be a little bitch,” said Gabriel, addressing Jack and Castiel, “But could I have, like, five more minutes to bug Sam? Cas, I know you need to rest, but there’s - I mean - ” 

“Of course,” Castiel said softly. “It’s no trouble. Come on, Jack. Let’s watch some Vines out in the hall.” 

When they were gone, Sam sat on the bed. “Gabriel?” 

“Sam.” Gabriel could picture himself, could see his features crumpling and the tears sliding down his face. There was no longer room for humiliation. He was allowed, Sam had said. So Gabriel allowed himself. 

Sam’s eyes brightened with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“What you said - ” Gabriel took tight, shuddering breaths. “You said no, you won’t take it, you won’t use me - ” 

“And I meant it.” 

“You said you care - ” 

“And I do.” 

“That you don’t mind if I - that I’m allowed to - this - ” 

“And I don’t, and you are.” 

“But you still don’t expect me to pay you back, and that’s wrong, Sam!” 

“It’s not, but if it was, I wouldn’t give a crap. Just relax. You don’t owe me anything. I promise.” 

“You want me to get better, and sometimes I don’t know if I can. So I can’t even give you that.” 

“Well, you will get better. And if it takes a long time, it’s all right. I’m not fed up, okay? This whole thing has sucked for you. And as long as you’re here with us - which we all like, by the way - I wanna get you through it as best I can.” He offered a small smile. “Nobody’s forcing me.” 

“Your conscience,” Gabriel retorted. “Your conscience is forcing you. You can’t help it. You see a wounded animal and you have to help. Even if you - ” He let out a strangled sob. “Even if you touch it and get diseased in the process.” 

Sam started to say something in reply, but Gabriel reached out and seized him, grasping with more force than either of them would have thought possible. “I wish I cared more about how diseased you get. I wish I cared more about you than I do about me.” 

Sam gazed down at Gabriel’s fingers clasped around his arm. “I get it. It’s okay. I’m glad it’s okay for me to touch you.” 

“But the problem is I - ” 

“You need it, I know. You want it.” 

Sam had said that deliberately, Gabriel supposed. He knew how much Gabriel hated that word, how much he needed to get used to it again. 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” Sam went on. “You can ask for it.” 

Gabriel was silent. 

“Gabriel … you gotta stop being so violent with yourself. Come on, I’m here; you’re not contaminating me.” Sam tugged his arm from Gabriel’s grip and, for the second time, lay down beside him. 

“You shouldn’t let me be like this,” Gabriel croaked. “You shouldn’t let me keep losing control.” 

“Why not?” 

“It makes more work for you and it keeps me from getting better.” 

Sam shook his head. “You really think holding everything in would be more productive?” 

“I … I don’t know. I think maybe.” 

“Well, I don’t. And you trust me, right?” 

“I think so.” 

“You know I’m not Asmodeus?” 

Gabriel didn’t reply. 

“You know I’m not going to force your grace out of you?” Sam coaxed. 

Gabriel felt tears trickle over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and into his ears. Yes, he knew that Sam wasn’t Asmodeus. 

And that was the problem. If someone was going to take advantage of Gabriel’s grace, it would be Sam. And imagining Sam in the role of Asmodeus, as Sam Winchester, was uniquely sickening. 

“Gabriel?” said Sam. 

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” 

“You mean - ” 

“I mean this.” Gabriel pressed his face into Sam’s chest. Sam seemed to have been prepared for this: he wrapped his arms around Gabriel immediately, as if on cue or by reflex. 

Neither of them spoke. 

_I needed this._

Gabriel shivered, trying to soak up some of Sam’s warmth. 

_It’s just me. You’re allowed._

“Sam,” Gabriel whimpered. 

_I know there's stuff you haven't told me._

“Yeah, Gabe, what is it?” Sam replied. 

_When you’re ready._

“Sam … there’s too much you don’t know. Too much I haven’t let you in on. I’m sorry.” 

Sam squeezed him closer. “Don’t be sorry. When you’re ready, okay?” 

Gabriel shut his eyes, remembering the way Asmodeus used to hold him like this, and yet knowing on an instinctual level that Sam felt different - especially when Gabriel began crying again and Sam only strengthened his grip. 

This - with its warmth and firmness - was not the embrace of Asmodeus. 


End file.
